Artemis stood in the little room surrounded by the much smaller
first-years. They was waiting to be Sorted. Next door she could hear the
noise several hundred people couldn't help but make. The first-years knew
it, and glanced at each other worriedly, looking for a kindly face to reassure
them. They found Velma, but she could only reassure so many. The rest of
the Wildmoor students might as well have been cut from stone for all their
expression. Except Apollo, still stuck to the roof, who's face was resigned.
She glanced worriedly at Ares. Looking at her, one might have thought she was simply looking at anything and everything, so flawless was her serenity. It was the one thing she had learned from the elves, and was useful in settling disputes and calming people down. Or it had better uses, like getting out of trouble or pretending she was listening to her teachers. Ares' face was equally empty, although his might have been chiselled from cold rock. It was a particular look for him, one she knew well, and hated. It was that look that said he was thinking about the Drow. That would never do. He may be a Drow, but he wasn't allowed to be Drow. Did that make sense? It didn't matter. She slid over to him.
"Stop it," she whispered, although it came out more a hiss like Ray's. He looked at her. First-years looked at both of them guardedly. His crystal eyes couldn't help but look unfocused, but she knew his stare could have bored holes through her. "I said, stop it."
"Stop what?"He tried to sound nonchalant, innocent. She knew him too well.
"You know what I mean."
He did know, and for a second he looked a bit lost, but covered it quickly. "I can't help what I am." Level, calm, like they were discussing something of no interest to him. But it wasn't nothing, and soon, it would be much, much more than nothing.
Her heart went out to him. To be Drow was to be cursed. Half-elves who were Drow were unheard of, but that was what he was. But half- or pure-blood, he was Drow. How much elf blood he had would make no difference to the elves. They might be stupid, but they did know he was Drow. And Drow had to be killed as a mercy to themselves and those around them.
She hugged him, feeling very self-conscious. It felt like the eyes of every eleven year old in the room was on them. She really wanted to put her head on his shoulder and cry as she had so many times before. It was hard being rejects from their own race, growing up in a sort of isolation that could never be explained or dispelled. It would be even harder for him. He was Drow. Right now she wanted to cry, for herself being back among humans and for remembering the last times she had been, for Ares being Drow, and even Apollo, stuck to the ceiling though he was, for culling so many of his own emotions so they could survive. But now wasn't the time. She was here for a reason, and people were watching. She had to be strong.
Much as she whished she didn't have to, she stepped away from Ares. People were watching her; she could tell. They always did. They watched her and Apollo, slim and incredibly good looking as they were, but with odd pointed ear and strangely coloured eyes. Ares too, for even though he was only moderately good-looking by elven standards, he was incredibly handsome in a villainous sort of way to humans. As long as Apollo wasn't around, that was. Then he just sort of faded.
"Artemis?" he older brother's voice came from overhead. She looked up into her twin's perfect cerulean eyes. Ares moved away to a corner and crouched next to the huddled shape that was Ray. "Would you let me down please?"
"You dumped water on me."
"I'm sorry." She doubted it. Then again, she'd dragged him across the ceiling all the way from the classroom and she hadn't been exactly careful about it. Elves' bones being very similar to dragon or bird ones, she was surprised he hadn't had anything broken. The flight suit would have helped some, but it wouldn't have stopped a broken arm if he hit a pillar. Still, he'd only been up there an hour. "Please." Blue eyes met violet again, and held. Finally, Artemis relented. Apollo floated slowly down to land on his feet. "Thank-you." Artemis turned away, shocked at her display of sympathy, as Velma bustled through the crowd to heal Apollo. Ares didn't seem to be in the mood to fix him up, and Artemis couldn't, not unless he at least had a couple of broken bones. But it was funny how it was always Velma who came to his rescue.
Presently, the hard-faced teacher appeared. Artemis remembered her from when she'd been younger. She remembered the headmaster too, who she saw as she followed the others onto a dais at one end of the Great Hall. Rows of candles at illuminated rows of tables, at which sat rows of students, and among those students... no, it couldn't be. He was dead. and it wasn't as if he could have just not died; he'd been older when he'd popped off. His mid-twenties, she was pretty sure. This boy was in his late teens. And he'd died when she was just a cub. Unless... yes, the years were right. Suddenly she knew which House she had to be in. She was here for a reason, and it would be much easier accomplished in that House.
A touch to Apollo's hand got his attention, although he didn't turn around. She could almost feel his focus shift to her. In the whispery language of the elves she told him what she was going to do. Would he help? Would he come with her? She needed him, if they were to do what they'd come for. Yes, he'd help, but she'd have to do it for him.
"Riddle, Apollo," McGonagoll called. Apollo put on the Sorting Hat. It started to open the tear that served it as a mouth, then Artemis' magic struck it. It quivered slightly on her brother's head as the powerful conduit opened. She could have done it an easier way, because linking to its magical epicentre wasn't easy and she knew only vaguely how to do it, but she didn't want to ruin it, only control it temporarily. The Hat resisted her. Not only was it magically powerful, if in a benign way, but it was almost sentient. It might actually be. Fortunate that she'd done it this way, else she'd have destroyed it for sure. The Hat did as she told it. Apollo took it off and joined the cheering house, much to the displeasure of the other houses.
"Riddle, Artemis," came McGonagoll's call. Now, Artemis thought to the Hat as she put it on, you know what to do.
Must I? asked the Hat. You don't belong there. You belong in...
I belong there. Ancestry means nothing.
But the Hat was being obstinate. No, no. This has nothing to do with that, although it just makes it an even better choice. He could have gone either way. You, on the other hand, would do much better in...
Do it!
"Gryffindor!" yelled the Hat.
She glanced worriedly at Ares. Looking at her, one might have thought she was simply looking at anything and everything, so flawless was her serenity. It was the one thing she had learned from the elves, and was useful in settling disputes and calming people down. Or it had better uses, like getting out of trouble or pretending she was listening to her teachers. Ares' face was equally empty, although his might have been chiselled from cold rock. It was a particular look for him, one she knew well, and hated. It was that look that said he was thinking about the Drow. That would never do. He may be a Drow, but he wasn't allowed to be Drow. Did that make sense? It didn't matter. She slid over to him.
"Stop it," she whispered, although it came out more a hiss like Ray's. He looked at her. First-years looked at both of them guardedly. His crystal eyes couldn't help but look unfocused, but she knew his stare could have bored holes through her. "I said, stop it."
"Stop what?"He tried to sound nonchalant, innocent. She knew him too well.
"You know what I mean."
He did know, and for a second he looked a bit lost, but covered it quickly. "I can't help what I am." Level, calm, like they were discussing something of no interest to him. But it wasn't nothing, and soon, it would be much, much more than nothing.
Her heart went out to him. To be Drow was to be cursed. Half-elves who were Drow were unheard of, but that was what he was. But half- or pure-blood, he was Drow. How much elf blood he had would make no difference to the elves. They might be stupid, but they did know he was Drow. And Drow had to be killed as a mercy to themselves and those around them.
She hugged him, feeling very self-conscious. It felt like the eyes of every eleven year old in the room was on them. She really wanted to put her head on his shoulder and cry as she had so many times before. It was hard being rejects from their own race, growing up in a sort of isolation that could never be explained or dispelled. It would be even harder for him. He was Drow. Right now she wanted to cry, for herself being back among humans and for remembering the last times she had been, for Ares being Drow, and even Apollo, stuck to the ceiling though he was, for culling so many of his own emotions so they could survive. But now wasn't the time. She was here for a reason, and people were watching. She had to be strong.
Much as she whished she didn't have to, she stepped away from Ares. People were watching her; she could tell. They always did. They watched her and Apollo, slim and incredibly good looking as they were, but with odd pointed ear and strangely coloured eyes. Ares too, for even though he was only moderately good-looking by elven standards, he was incredibly handsome in a villainous sort of way to humans. As long as Apollo wasn't around, that was. Then he just sort of faded.
"Artemis?" he older brother's voice came from overhead. She looked up into her twin's perfect cerulean eyes. Ares moved away to a corner and crouched next to the huddled shape that was Ray. "Would you let me down please?"
"You dumped water on me."
"I'm sorry." She doubted it. Then again, she'd dragged him across the ceiling all the way from the classroom and she hadn't been exactly careful about it. Elves' bones being very similar to dragon or bird ones, she was surprised he hadn't had anything broken. The flight suit would have helped some, but it wouldn't have stopped a broken arm if he hit a pillar. Still, he'd only been up there an hour. "Please." Blue eyes met violet again, and held. Finally, Artemis relented. Apollo floated slowly down to land on his feet. "Thank-you." Artemis turned away, shocked at her display of sympathy, as Velma bustled through the crowd to heal Apollo. Ares didn't seem to be in the mood to fix him up, and Artemis couldn't, not unless he at least had a couple of broken bones. But it was funny how it was always Velma who came to his rescue.
Presently, the hard-faced teacher appeared. Artemis remembered her from when she'd been younger. She remembered the headmaster too, who she saw as she followed the others onto a dais at one end of the Great Hall. Rows of candles at illuminated rows of tables, at which sat rows of students, and among those students... no, it couldn't be. He was dead. and it wasn't as if he could have just not died; he'd been older when he'd popped off. His mid-twenties, she was pretty sure. This boy was in his late teens. And he'd died when she was just a cub. Unless... yes, the years were right. Suddenly she knew which House she had to be in. She was here for a reason, and it would be much easier accomplished in that House.
A touch to Apollo's hand got his attention, although he didn't turn around. She could almost feel his focus shift to her. In the whispery language of the elves she told him what she was going to do. Would he help? Would he come with her? She needed him, if they were to do what they'd come for. Yes, he'd help, but she'd have to do it for him.
"Riddle, Apollo," McGonagoll called. Apollo put on the Sorting Hat. It started to open the tear that served it as a mouth, then Artemis' magic struck it. It quivered slightly on her brother's head as the powerful conduit opened. She could have done it an easier way, because linking to its magical epicentre wasn't easy and she knew only vaguely how to do it, but she didn't want to ruin it, only control it temporarily. The Hat resisted her. Not only was it magically powerful, if in a benign way, but it was almost sentient. It might actually be. Fortunate that she'd done it this way, else she'd have destroyed it for sure. The Hat did as she told it. Apollo took it off and joined the cheering house, much to the displeasure of the other houses.
"Riddle, Artemis," came McGonagoll's call. Now, Artemis thought to the Hat as she put it on, you know what to do.
Must I? asked the Hat. You don't belong there. You belong in...
I belong there. Ancestry means nothing.
But the Hat was being obstinate. No, no. This has nothing to do with that, although it just makes it an even better choice. He could have gone either way. You, on the other hand, would do much better in...
Do it!
"Gryffindor!" yelled the Hat.